my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard

I have yet to see There Will Be Blood (2007), but the buzz surrounding a certain line Daniel Day-Lewis's character, Daniel Plainview, utters has reached my ears. Actually, I should clarify something first: I have never heard DDL say, "I drink your milkshake. I drink it up." Not even in character. What I mean to say is that I've learned that this might be the next big cinematic catchphrase. 'Tis a shame, really, because it is so much better than "I see dead people" or "I wish I knew how to quit you!" I know this to be true despite the fact that my one reliable source about the film (read: Stephanie) has seen it but she can't even remember when Plainview says it, to whom he says it, and under what kind of conditions he says it. Oh, but that is neither here nor there.

Josh Ozersky's blog entry/rant/editorial/whatever on New York Magazine's website was pretty funny. It really inspired me to come up with a reason why we should repeat the line. Again, with what circumstances is quoting the film not just logical but also appropriate? Well, I think I stumbled upon the answer a few minutes ago.

First, a little background: I was just chatting through Gmail with Stephanie. She's been feeling under the weather for over a week now, so she was telling me about the latest developments with regards to her health and well-being. Anyway, turns out that she needs help applying some ointment and bandages to her first degree burn. (Don't ask, it's too embarrassing.) Lucky for her I will be arriving in L.A. in two days. Then again, she was lucky before, too, because I was already scheduled to help her clean her apartment.

You're wondering where this is headed? I'm getting there.

When she told me I'd be needed to fulfill this second favor, I said, "So I'm the cleaning lady and the cabana boy."

Stephanie then proceeded to, I think, do some variation of a line by Catherine O'Hara in Beetlejuice (1988): "You like it." (I presume this was her intention. Not only does she know I like to repeat the line "He likes it," I think she might also like to say it, too. Again, it's hard to tell because getting inflections across through typing is only ever moderately successful. Depends on the context of the situation.)

Here's the big deal: in response, I said, "You're right. I drink your milkshake. I drink it up." What I meant by this phrase is that Stephanie's treatment of me (making me her cleaning lady and her cabana boy) is, for lack of a better word, exciting. I bask in her glow. I make a toast to honor her dominance over me. Oh, this is not sounding like I want it to.

OK. So if we step back a bit, what I mean to show is that to drink someone's milkshake is to surrender something to them, to concede a point, if you will. For example, it could happen if there is a bet between two people. Person No. 1 says, "How much you wanna bet I can dunk this ball in that bin 100 feet away?" Person No. 2 then doubts No. 1 can achieve such a feat. But what do you know? Person No. 1 is successful. Now is the right time for Person No. 2 to use the phrase. "OK. OK. You did it. I drink your milkshake. I drink it up."

See, "milkshake" signifies essence, talent, idea, whatever. But it's got to belong to someone. It's a good thing when someone drinks your milkshake. I realize it can sound selfish, like someone's literally grabbing your strawberry milkshake out of your hand. Or it can sound menacing, as if the person who says it means to humiliate you even more, rubbing it in your face how bad you are at fill-in-the-blank.

No, no. This phrase must be positive, not even self-deflating or humbling. I doubt it is positive in the film, so let us rewrite the line and transform the film as its consumers. I drink your milkshake, There Will Be Blood. I drink it up.

these "spirits" are even showier!

I only saw the second half of the Independent Spirit Awards last night, but I have a few observations I would like to share nonetheless.

1.) When Dustin Hoffman presented the award for Best Feature Film, was he on crack? Not only was he barely coherent, he made some ridiculous comments. For instance, before he got going with announcing the nominees, he stated that he fucked Javier Bardem and that Philip Seymour Hoffman was the product of that union. "Metaphorically speaking, of course." Everyone was howling with laughter, which made me feel so out of the loop. Is that funny, really? Even if it were possible for two men to make a baby, it wouldn't have been possible in this case. I mean, Javier's younger than Philip.

Dusty also said a vaguely anti-Semitic remark. Well, maybe it wasn't so vague. He wanted to point out something on the wall behind him that resembled, for him at least, the Star of David. He said something to the effect of: "That's there to remind us that not only do the Jews run Hollywood, they also run the Independent Spirit Awards. I'm not speaking metaphorically, either." Again, the crowd howled with laughter. Since I already dislike her, it was especially painful for me to watch Cate Blanchett laugh. Anyway, just imagine if a non-Jew had said that. Right?

2.) There was something about the first Robert Altman Award, which is handed out to the director, cast, and casting director of an exemplary ensemble piece, that struck me in a bad way. It was awarded to I'm Not There (2007). I agree that casting and this award is important, but I guess seeing the Blanchett standing behind director Todd Haynes, who was talking about independent film and casting, was a bit weird. I mean, of course big stars can transcend mainstream film and star in independent features (look at Angelina Jolie, for one, in A Mighty Heart [2007]), but the cast is filled with Richard Gere and Batman himself: Christian Bale. Just didn't sit right in my stomach.

3.) Speaking of A Mighty Heart, I absolutely hated how the Master of Ceremonies Rainn "Dwight" Wilson made fun of Michael Winterbottom's name. How lame can he get? (The film was nominated for Best Feature film and lost to the juggernaut called Juno [2007]).

4.) That leads me onto something else: the Ellen Page lovefest. More specifically, the waves of affection going back and forth between Page and director Jason Reitman. At one point, she even said, "I'm Ellen Page and I'm in love with Jason Reitman." I'm waiting to watch the story about their running off into the sunset together emerge in the headlines sometime soon. Keep your eyes pealed.

5.) Oh, and another thing that pissed me off about that Rainn guy. He wrapped up the show and then threatened Philip Seymour Hoffman with violence. He went into the crowd as soon as his "professional" duties were over and done with. Unfortunately for him, this gave Hoffman enough time to defend himself with his chair legs. Hoffman basically pummeled him, and I got to see the distinguished actor's plumber butt. I thought, "What is this? Some old Almost Famous (2000) rivalry?" (Remember, Wilson worked for Rolling Stone, and Hoffman was Lester Bangs of Creem Magazine.)

6.) Finally, Julian Schnabel, in case you did not know, is really weird. Awful acceptance speech, but at least it was entertaining. He won for Best Director, and his former lead actor Javier Bardem presented it to him. They hugged. Julian even thanked him, along with The Diving Bell and the Butterfly's (2007) screenwriter Ronald Harwood and producer Kathleen Kennedy. No thanking of anyone else, especially not Mathieu Amalric. Sorry, but as a fan of his work, I feel cut by all of the gliding over of his contribution to the work. Contrary to popular belief, his role was not all voiceover. There was a fair bit of discomfort, I imagine. Hell, even his voice work had to convey a lot about Jean-Do's sense of humor, personal struggle, depression, imagination, and uplift. And I think even his body--and by that, I mean Mathieu's--did a lot for that.

OK. I am done ranting.

and the nominees might be...

Tomorrow morning, they will announce the nominees for the Academy Awards. And we still don't know if the show will go on. At least, we don't know in which form they may happen. Anyway, I thought I would predict the nominees for the "major" categories and choose the likely winners from my hypotheses. Below, I've also included some wishful thinking. (I'd wanted to predict the winners of the Golden Globes, but I only had the craving to post about that 30 minutes prior to the start of the glossy "press conference," which I didn't even watch. I favored Masterpiece Classic's airing of Persuasion [2007] instead. But that is neither here nor there.)

Best Adapted Screenplay:

1.) There Will Be Blood (2007) by Paul Thomas Anderson
2.) The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (2007) by Ronald Harwood
3.) No Country for Old Men (2007) by Joel and Ethan Coen
4.) Atonement (2007) by Christopher Hampton
5.) Into the Wild (2007) by Sean Penn

The Likely Winner: I think this category is a toss-up, really. I was not exactly impressed when the Brothers Coen won the Globe. I was expecting Atonement to win because it fabulously translated the "un-filmable" Ian McEwan novel to the screen. I think Atonement has a shot in this race despite the previous Old Men win(s). Would, however, like to see The Diving Bell win because it was my favorite film of the year (not that I saw so many movies this year) and, not to mention, it was apparently Harwood's idea that the film be shot largely from Jean-Do's point-of-view, to help the audience empathize with him for having the condition called "locked-in syndrome" following his stroke.

By the way, I debated a bit about who would fill the final slot: American Gangster (2007) or Into the Wild. I chose the latter because supposedly the fact that almost everything in American Gangster was fabricated for dramatic effect and bears almost no resemblance to the story of Frank Lucas, voters will not favor it. This is sort of stupid, because who says that the film story must be close to the actual story? A story is a story. Anyway, I figured Into the Wild would get it over Gangster because don't they love Sean Penn and American bestsellers?

Best Original Screenplay:

1.) Juno (2007) by Diablo Cody
2.) Michael Clayton (2007) by Tony Gilroy
3.) Ratatouille (2007) by Brad Bird
4.) The Savages (2007) by Tamara Jenkins
5.) Lars and the Real Girl (2007) by Nancy Oliver

The Likely Winner: Before I "announce" the Likely Winner, it's interesting to me that women dominate in this category. (Of course this means nothing since these are only my predictions.) Unfortunately, Juno seems like the most likely winner, but perhaps all that buzz will kill it stone dead. Clayton seems likely to be at least nominated because it was a "smart" movie for the thinking "grown-ups" among audiences. Plus it's a political thriller that hearkens back to some of the classics. Having said all this, I would like to see, among these nominees I've selected, Ratatouille win because that film is art all around, anchored by a fantastic script. The script itself elevates the animated film to a much higher level.

By the way, I should say that this category is much more difficult to predict than Adapted Screenplay because it seems like all the darlings of this award season are based on previously published material. This pretty much explains my choices for the fourth and fifth spots.

Best Supporting Actress:

1.) Amy Ryan for Gone Baby Gone (2007)
2.) Cate Blanchett for I'm Not There (2007)
3.) Saoirse Ronan for Atonement
4.) Vanessa Redgrave for Atonement
5.) Tilda Swinton for Michael Clayton

The Likely Winner: It's probably between Numbers 1 and 2. Would be extremely distressful (for me, at least) if Blanchett won because that would mean she has two Oscars for IMPERSONATING HISTORICAL FIGURES. I'm sorry, but in my opinion, that is not acting. Of course she does not always impersonate people, but she would go down in history as nothing but an impressionist. I don't think that it is likely she will win an Oscar for Best Actress ever, really. There, I said it. (Can you tell I am not exactly a fan of hers, either? I admit to some extreme bias.) I think perhaps both Ronan and Redgrave will be nominated. Choosing Redgrave, you may be thinking, is ridiculous, but Judi Dench won for what? 13 minutes of screen time in Shakespeare in Love (1998)? It's entirely possible. Plus, don't they love nominating the old and the ridiculously young? I don't have a personal choice to win. I'd be happy with anyone but Blanchett.

Best Supporting Actor:

1.) Javier Bardem for No Country for Old Men
2.) Tom Wilkinson for Michael Clayton
3.) Casey Affleck for The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007)
4.) Hal Holbrook for Into the Wild
5.) Philip Seymour Hoffman for Charlie Wilson's War (2007)

The Likely Winner: Do I even need to say this? I bet it will be Javier. He's one of my favorite actors, and even though it's a "supporting role," it's definitely a good, meaty one to win for. In fact, I don't think there's a leading role in this film. It's very much an ensemble piece, which is why none are nominated for leading roles. His is possibly the biggest and the most important. It's practically because of Anton that everything else takes place.

Also, I want to add that this category is tough to pin down because I think Paul Dano could easily get nominated for his work in There Will Be Blood, but I don't know who he would knock off if he got nominated: Affleck, Wilkinson, Holbrook, or Hoffman (who will be nominated, I think, because he apparently stole the movie from Hanks).

Best Actress:

1.) Julie Christie for Away From Her (2007)
2.) Marion Cotillard for La Vie en rose (2007)
3.) Ellen Page for Juno
4.) Angelina Jolie for A Mighty Heart (2007)
5.) Keira Knightley for Atonement

The Likely Winner: Between Numbers 1 and 2, but I think the gong will go to Christie. That is, if she's actually nominated. (Ha!) I listed this set from the actress most likely to win to the actress least likely. Knightley is the dark horse in this race because I do not think her role was meaty enough to be classified as a leading role, but it was definitely meatier than a supporting one. In other words, Atonement is very much James McAvoy's film. Angelina Jolie will get the nomination, I think, over Blanchett's reprisal of Elizabeth I simply because Blanchett merely yelled out of frustration and modeled fancy sixteenth century dresses. Jolie at least sank into her role, taking it very seriously, and I think it paid off. Whatever. It doesn't matter because Christie will win.

Best Actor:

1.) Daniel Day-Lewis for There Will Be Blood
2.) George Clooney for Michael Clayton
3.) James McAvoy for Atonement
4.) Viggo Mortensen for Eastern Promises (2007)
5.) Emile Hirsch for Into the Wild

The Likely Winner: Day-Lewis.

Best Director:

1.) Joel and Ethan Coen for No Country for Old Men
2.) Julian Schnabel for The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
3.) Joe Wright for Atonement
4.) Sean Penn for Into the Wild
5.) Paul Thomas Anderson for There Will Be Blood

The Likely Winner: I think it's between Numbers 1 and 2, but maybe even Number 3 can edge his way in there. He should be able to because Atonement oozes in his style. Would prefer it if Wright or Schnabel won, honestly. Then again, I think it would be cool if Brad Bird were nominated for Ratatouille. Again, this nomination would demonstrate that some animated films are capable of rising above that "animated" stigma.

Best Picture:

1.) No Country for Old Men
2.) Atonement
3.) There Will Be Blood
4.) Michael Clayton
5.) The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

The Likely Winner: I've decided against predicting the winner among these five simply because I don't want to get my hopes up. And I don't even know which hopes I should be concerned about. I would love to see The Diving Bell win, but the truth is it's probably the dark horse among them. Yes, its recent nomination over at the Producers Guild of America Awards helps it. Since it cannot be nominated for Best Foreign Language Film (and France's pick Persepolis [2007] didn't even make the shortlist), this is its best shot.

Fingers crossed, yeah.

the subversion of an institution

The story I have to tell that justifies this post isn't easy. And I'm not sure it even makes sense. I'm looking down at the blue post-it on my desk that serves as a note-to-self: "post about new Secretary discovery." I wrote that nights ago, after I had already gotten in bed to go to sleep. So, I had already been lying in bed for at least a couple of minutes when this "new" "discovery" about Secretary (2002) hit me. It's very strange, since I haven't seen the film in a long while. I really cannot explain why I was thinking about Secretary at that moment, whenever it was.

But I do remember what I meant by "new Secretary discovery." After all, in parentheses, I scribbled a reminder of what that "discovery" is: "perversion of marriage." But I am getting too ahead of myself. And if you don't want the film to be spoiled for you if you haven't yet seen it, please find something else to read. Spoilers lie below.

Secretary is the story of Lee Holloway, a young woman who has just been released from a mental institution. She mutilates herself for autoerotic pleasure, and pretty much everyone, especially her family, misunderstands her: they think she's suicidal. Anyway, Lee gets a job as the newest in a long line of unceremoniously fired secretaries for the eccentric lawyer E. Edward Grey. To cut a long story short, their already sexually tense relationship eventually develops so that they enjoy a sadomasochistic one during regular business hours. Lee wants more. He freezes up, fires her, but she is still devoted to him, convinced that she has found some sort of soul mate, someone who understands her, etc. etc. It's an unconventional love story. But in the end, they marry.

For the longest time, I absolutely hated this ending. For the record, most of the time I hate it in films whenever the story ends with a wedding. In these cases, the wedding/marriage is completely unnecessary. Apparently, films end with this kind of event as a way to show to the audience that the love between the characters is legitimate and long-lasting. That's a pretty stupid reason, isn't it? Considering the divorce rate in this country is almost 50 percent, if it isn't already 50 percent.

Anyway, I especially hated the capping of the story with the marriage of Lee and Edward. By all accounts, they're perverted (but toward the end, her family and friends attempt to understand her desire for her former boss). Why do they want to conform to heteronormativity all of a sudden? I just didn't understand why.

And then it hit me, a couple of nights ago. This is probably really obvious to most of you, but it took me so long to understand that their union perverts the institution of marriage. And it all begins with Lee's wedding dress.

Right before the lovers are reunited, Lee has accepted the marriage proposal of her boyfriend, Peter. Simply because she has no idea what to do with herself. Trying on her soon-to-be mother-in-law's wedding dress, Lee realizes she doesn't want Peter, that she wants Edward. She rushes over to Edward's office, passing by the new secretary. In short, she plops herself down behind his desk, and at his request, doesn't lift her hands from the surface until he returns (days later!). A media circus ensues, and Lee reluctantly receives visitors.

Now, about that perversion of marriage: Since Lee doesn't get up, she pees in the dress. Take that, sanctity of marriage! The scene that follows Edward's return further subverts marriage. He carries her over the marital threshold to the loft upstairs, which resembles the Garden of Eden... if Martha Stewart had designed it. She's wearing a wedding dress, but this is not their wedding night. And the Garden of Eden motif recalls the notion of Original Sin, which they ignore. As we viewers have already witnessed, neither Lee nor Edward are prudes, so it is not a shock that they have pre-marital sex.

But it doesn't end here. Because when they finally do get married, they wipe out the religious connotations, electing to be married by a Justice of the Peace. But I should say this is all related through Lee's voiceover. We do not see the ceremony itself. In this way, the filmmakers further subvert the institution of marriage, but also the institution that cinematic romances must end with a wedding because we do not see it. Moreover, Lee is decked out in something that resembles a wedding dress in every way, except for the fact that its color is black. You'd think she were marrying Dracula or Beetlejuice. Not only that, the scene in which we glimpse the dress features Edward and Lee fucking, her wrists tied around the trunk of a tree. No threshold here, just good, dark, sadomasochistic love.

Following this, Lee talks about their marital bliss. They're "just like any other couple you'd see." Unfortunately, the independence Lee enjoyed with a job does not continue, for as Edward rolls out of the driveway, off to work, she stays home. We assume she eagerly anticipates his return. After all, she has dropped a dead cockroach on their immaculate bed. Edward's going to come home and spank her.

Yeah, so a couple of nights ago, I realized that Secretary makes fun of the romantic comedy/drama's formulaic ending: that the characters should not only fall in love and remain together as a couple, they should also get married. While Secretary conforms to the model, I think it says a lot about the formula itself. The film points out how there can be a happily ever after for sadist and the masochist. (See The Piano Teacher [2001] for a comparison.) However, having said all this, I still lament that Lee does not exactly maintain her complete feminist figure status. I wish she didn't become a housewife, really.

By the way, there was actually a second discovery that I made about Secretary. It made me think about all those films that are named for a character's profession. Other films of this ilk are: Waitress (2007), Hitman (2007), Actrices (2007), and Rock Star (2001). Closely related are those films who fit the category, but have a definite article to accompany them. They include: Le Valet (2006), Il Postino (1994), The Piano Teacher/La Pianiste, and The Pianist (2002). Can you think of any others?

germans plotted to assassinate hitler? really?!

I'm bored tonight. So I keep reloading the main page of IMDb. And then it occurs to me, as I glance over the screen to see if there is anything worth checking out, that I have never seen a trailer for Valkyrie (2008). You can guess what happens next.

I really had no preconceived notions going in. I mean, I remember the big hoopla they made about attempting to score access to some bases there for filming purposes. Mr. Cruise's "faith" kept the doors locked for quite a while. A ridiculous reason, if you ask me, but they are right. He is nuts. But so are many other people. And that is neither here nor there.

I must admit I was a bit surprised that everyone in the film speaks with his own accent (there is what, one woman?). This means Cruise stars as the German Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg (who knew he could play the ethnic card?!) with his own American accent. And all the Englishmen who round out his posse--you know, the other Germans who are plotting to kill Hitler during WWII--sound, well, English. This reminds me of the made-for-HBO film Conspiracy (2001) with Kenneth Branagh (who's also in Valkyrie) and Stanley Tucci. They were Germans with English and American accents, respectively. I should note, however, that some Germans do feature in the cast: Thomas Kretschmann and some lesser known stars (I don't even know who they are).

I know this makes me sound like some sort of modernist. But it's not as if the film is intentionally postmodern. Then maybe I would be more forgiving. It's also offensive because it is raping history. It's not as if I think this is a story only Germans should tell. Rather, I think that an attempt to be realistic would not only help the audience suspend their disbelief that Cruise, Branagh, my Bill Nighy, Terrence Stamp, and Eddie Izzard are the German masterminds behind this failed coup, it would also ground the history in its place. In other words, how is the audience supposed to appreciate what a select group of Nazis did to challenge their leader, the man who forever will be remembered as evil in the human form, if the coterie doesn't come off as German? Right now, with this film, they just come off as Cruise and his English group of friends playing at being heroic. Why is that story worth telling?

And another thing: I think having the actors maintain their own accents implicitly reinforces the Allied Powers' dominance in determining what Stephanie jokingly called "the mythology of Hitler." There are a lot of mediated representations of Hitler (and by extension, the Holocaust and in some cases, WWII), and they can all be collected in an archive. I would say that the story about him is always the same, with the exceptions of Max (2002), which depicted Hitler as a young artist, and Downfall (2004). Downfall is the most significant because not only does it try to humanize Hitler during his last days, it is also a German film--by a German director, in German, with German-speaking actors. (Bruno Ganz is Swiss-German.)

By eliding over German history in order to appeal to American audiences who want the film to be more action movie than historical thinkpiece, Valkyrie reclaims "Hitler" as belonging to an Allied history. For so long the Allies have had a grip on representations of WWII, the Holocaust (excepting Life is Beautiful [1998], I guess), and Hitler. For most of these films, Hitler--and by extension, his Axis "friends"--exist only to get beaten by the Allies, who have a monopoly, I think, on how he is remembered. Don't get me wrong. I am not suggesting that we reevaluate Hitler in order to make him sympathetic in order to induce empathy for him. I just wanted to point out how the Grand Narrative of WWII and Hitler is maintained by the Allies, who use him only to make themselves look good. Even when it's not their story, as is the case with Valkyrie.

happy birthday bill nighy

I feel like a right shit. I mean, I knew it was Bill's birthday (he's just 11 days older than my dad), but I had forgotten it's also Tom Wilkinson's birthday. Oh well. Happy birthday to Tom, too.

I knew this day was coming, that I needed to have a bit of something prepared. I cannot let the final third of my triumvirate of favorite people to watch go without having a proper birthday post. Right?

Why is Bill fun to watch? Mostly because he's just funny. In all senses of the word. He's self-deprecating. Just look at him all awkward-like on any red carpet or in any photo shoot. He's funny-looking, not afraid to look ridiculous. He snorts for fuck's sake! It might as well be his trademark, as much as his lanky figure is, or his pursed lips, mumbling, or stuttering are. I mean, no matter the role, he does it all. Well, I guess except in some extreme cases. For instance, I doubt he mumbled, stuttered, or frowned nervously in The Constant Gardener (2005). Could be wrong, though.

He's also got an underestimated versatility as an actor. He can be a vindictive prick, as is evidenced by The Constant Gardener. He can be different kind of bad guy, like Davy Jones in the last two Pirates of the Caribbean installments, though I must say his Scottish accent seems inconsistent at some points. I've never seen them, but isn't he also a baddie vampire in the Underworld movies? (I try to forget he was ever attached to them.) And he's been a rock legend a couple of times. Compare his turns as Ray the insecure lead singer trying to recapture his youth in Still Crazy (1998) with his role as the candid and confidently sexy has-been Billy Mack in Love Actually (2003).

Ray is still one of my favorite characters of his, as is Lawrence in The Girl in the Cafe (2005). His performance erases the heavy-handedness of the message and the slowness of the pacing. And then there's his turn as James Mortmain in I Capture the Castle (2003). As the writer-patriarch who hasn't been able to provide for his family in years, he's growing more and more distant from them, and he's mad. But his gesturing is funny.

Oh! And he just makes you smile in Shaun of the Dead (2004) as the eponymous character's STEPdad Philip. "You've got red on you." He also delivers one of the best lines in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (2005): "Slartibartfast." It's his character's name, and I don't think anyone else could have played that part because no one could make a ridiculous, extraterrestrial name sound any funnier than Bill can. The shame he has for having such a name comes off so well because Bill is sheepish, embarrassed. He plays it like he has most of his other awkward, comedic roles. Which makes me wonder: is he at all like that in "real life"? Ah, but that is neither here nor there.

Speaking of embarrassment, I am going to admit to something absolutely goofy. I play a sort of game with Bill's name. I wait for someone, usually my sister, to say "Nighty night!" just before we part on the phone. Then I yelp, with a very high pitched voice, "Bill Nighy!" It just works. I mean for it to be cute, but I realize now that I'm just stupid. And nuts.

Anyway, by now hopefully it is clear why I think Bill is fun to watch. He is so interesting because he is a character actor, an anti-hero. And while he may choose some roles that I just have to pretend don't exist (Underworld, really? How expensive is your rent?), he can always make them memorable. He stands apart from the rest because he is a bit like a chameleon, but there's always something there that makes me see it's Bill Nighy. Even when he's CGI.

happy birthday mads mikkelsen

I'm not even prepared to write about you just yet. Happy birthday, though.

cinematically grounded

I watched Paris, je t'aime (2006) last night and loved it. And today I read in the Guardian critics' opinions about how major world cities have representationally "fared" on film. It's by no means an exhaustive collection of cities and films. In any case, together the film and the article have made me think about what sort of director I would be.

If you remember, I have always dreamt of being a filmmaker. And one of the biggest reasons for this, besides my passionate cinephilia, is what I call "my cinematical mind." Essentially speaking, I think of my life as a movie, and my glasses as the frame of a camera. I have an idea of what I would be like as a filmmaker. In the very least, I would want to make movies I would enjoy watching. But I think cinephilia--whether in the form of postmodern cineliteracy or through the narrative a la Cinema Paradiso (1988)--would figure prominently, and this is important because I also tend to think spatially, in terms of cultural production and consumption. That is why the Guardian article appealed to me so much, getting critics' opinions about how cities have been (mis)represented in film. Paris, je t'aime, which was not mentioned at all, is about space and cinephilia.

So the Guardian article made me think about what kind of director I would be, what geographical location or region I might be associated with. And since my life is a movie and I have spent much of the time "filming" this movie in suburban Maryland, I thought, "Clearly that is my cinematic place!" But it's not just suburban Maryland. Never mind the fact that I do have freedom as an artist to represent places and things that are not natural to my life. In other words, I could make a film in or about New York, couldn't I? It just wouldn't be as good as a Woody Allen picture, if you ask me.

My point of view as a director based in suburban Maryland, close to D.C., would be about this relationship between the suburbs and the capital. I don't know for sure if the discrepancy between the places is totally unique, completely unlike other major cities relationships to their suburbs. I find there is a dearth of films about D.C. Sure, the ones about the government may take place here but they're not filmed here. Capturing aerial shots of the National Mall may establish the scene, but it is a trite one, one that keeps non-Washingtonians from seeing D.C. apart from the monuments and "official" landmarks of national memory and history. Only two films "take place" in D.C. and go beyond this: Broadcast News (1987) and Thank You For Smoking (2005). I hesitate to call the latter a film about D.C. because it's not, and it's not really grounded here no matter how many shots of the Metro and government buildings it features.

I suppose my enthusiasm for this idea of myself as a potential suburban Maryland director comes from my recent dependence on the Metrobus system. For 21 years I'd never ridden the public bus, but now I have--and a lot. I have a deeper appreciation for those who ride it and drive it every day. But also being out of control of where and when and how often the bus stops ultimately exposes to me just how wide a space the length, for instance, of Georgia Avenue, is.

More than this though, I imagine that the frustration I feel (along with others) about how inconveniently located the Metro is from my house would figure prominently in my film(s). I mean, it already does in my life. There is this pull from the suburbs, this idea that the city is the place to find culture (museums, cinemas, concert venues, ethnic restaurants, etc.). My version of "disaffected youth" doesn't include drugs and violence; it's about wanting to have an urban experience.

And let's face it, we need someone to make films about what life is "like" just outside the capital of the world's only superpower (I hate to say it). The site needs to be demystified. A film needs to show that despite having the smartest population or whatever (San Francisco comes in second), D.C.'s majority population is of racial minorities and/or of the lower class(es). Immigrants punctuate this, too. I don't claim I can make this film because I don't know what that "life" is like, but even the acknowledgment of it would be something.

Then I think more broadly about Maryland directors. The two most famous Maryland directors are John Waters and Barry Levinson. (Can you name any other Maryland directors, period?) But their focus is on Baltimore, glimpsing it from different angles. Waters is informed by the working class "freaks" (I don't really mean they are, but he is interested in the grotesque), and Levinson is nostalgic for growing up in the 1950s. My point of view, of course, is completely different. And it is about place, too.

Now back to that Guardian article. I'm a bit disappointed that they did not mention Paris, je t'aime. Having been to Paris and seen some of the places depicted, I can't say I recognized everything. That's the fiction, the romance. But the writer-directors did consciously think about how their stories would fit into the arrondissements. Christopher Doyle's "Porte de Choisy" seemed the most grounded in its place, depicting the Chinese enclave while also staying true to his vision (as a cinematographer, he's worked with many an Asian auteur). But it's also the most outlandish, the one most like a music video, where the visuals and sounds are the feature, not so much the narrative.

The Brothers Coen's "Tuileries," while set entirely in the subway as if to position the subjects and audience in an underworld, is about stereotypes, and does nothing to challenge them. A tourist who ne comprend pas French, Steve Buscemi gets sucked into the idea that modern young romance is sexist, contradictory, confusing, and thus can be used against the unassuming when a young dude threatens violence and his girlfriend's response is to kiss Buscemi, only to let her dude beat up Buscemi. And then she leaves with her dude. See how easily the Coen sensibility can be transported to the Paris Metro? How it can be translated into French? See how cinematic Paris is as a stage?

Paris, je t'aime is about "Paris." While some people may think the film strives to represent "real life" in Paris through the eyes of a collection of internationally-renowned directors, it's not about real life. It's about romance, and no place personifies romance better than Paris.

So, what would my short be, since I am a suburban Maryland filmmaker (among other kinds of filmmaker!)? Maybe my section would try to trace the historical connection between Paris and D.C. Not just through urban planning, but maybe it could focus on L'Enfant. Anyway, I'm not quite sure what it would be, but all I can say is, "Paris, je t'aime."

american psycho nightmare

This past week was very hectic. Chaotic even because having Stephanie here sent my routine into a sort of tailspin. See, the weekends are reserved for schoolwork. I don't have any other time during the week where I can get much work done. I prefer to get each thing done all at once, or at least as much as possible in one sitting.

In any case, I had a paper due Thursday for my race and nation in 20th century cinema class. I had written the better part of it on Saturday, and I sat down on Wednesday afternoon to rewrite it. (I'd read the draft before and hated it.) But I'm getting ahead of myself. It might help to explain what the paper is about.

Feeling uninspired by the films we've seen for the class, I chose to write about American Psycho (2000). And let me tell you I really resent that almost everyone I've talked to about the film with regards to the assignment did not think I could write about it, that race was not obvious. I had to tell them each time it was about whiteness. Patrick Bateman the Wall Street yuppie/serial killer has what I have vaguely called "a particular brand of whiteness," which is tied to his job, gender, sexuality, and conformity to yuppie culture. Through him, the point of my paper was to argue that the film (and Bret Easton Ellis's book on which the film is based) claim that capitalism is evil. His materialism has driven him mad; the only thing that fulfills him is his satiating his "nightly bloodlust." Just when you thought he was an oppressive bastard because of his job, he goes and KILLS people. The fucker.

Anyway, I rewrote the paper. Almost pulled an all-nighter, working till 3.15 am. (My friend tells me that it ain't an all-nighter till at least 5 am.) All night, I tossed and turned, thinking the paper was shit. I couldn't turn my mind off; I kept thinking of the teeniest, tiniest details to add but decided not to alter the paper in the morning, thinking such minutiae wouldn't help much. To make a long story short, I have been unable to stop thinking about this paper and its flaws.

I was so depressed I took a two-hour nap today after just being up for about two hours. During that nap, I realized the bit that would have--perhaps--greatly improved my argument. And it was something I had in my original draft: at the end of the film, after Bateman has realized that his identity as a serial killer is not going to be revealed (and probably never will be), then-President Ronald Reagan is on the TV, defending himself amidst the Iran-Contra Affair. If I had mentioned this in my paper, I could have linked the Reagan Administration's murderous hypocrisy. (The scandal revolved around the U.S. selling arms to enemy Iran and then using the profits to fund the Sandinistas in Nicaragua.) Bateman's conformity to what is expected of him as a rich, white, male yuppie and all-American boy and his secret homicidal crimes sort of mirror the Scandal. If only I had mentioned this in my paper; then surely I'd get more points for discussing the historical contexts of the film. Damnit.

By the way, thinking and writing about the film and considering the book throughout this process frightened me a bit when I went to bed Wednesday night in the wee hours of the morning. I haven't scared myself in a long while. The last time I really worked myself up to a fright was thinking about an old and decrepit Howard Hughes.

wish you were (t)here already

Why does Netflix think I am going to hate Blame It On Fidel (2006)? It seems really cute!

I just added it to the top of my queue (it's getting released Tuesday) so that while Stephanie is here, we can watch it together. She is currently without Netflix, what with all her cross-country flying and all within the past couple of weeks. She actually requested this film, so I'm giving it to her. And I have to watch Falling Down (1993) for class. The third film we're getting, unless she says anything in a post-it, is A Good Year (2006). Thought she'd like it since she's such a romantic comedy nut and a sucker for anything that takes place in France.

I'm a member of the latter group myself.

happy birthday mathieu amalric

Jesus. You'd think all I do is wish people happy birthday. To be fair, there isn't a day that goes by that isn't the birthday of someone. It just so happens that a lot of the people I want to wish a happy birthday are born round the same time of the year. But that really is neither here nor there.

Now, if you remember, Mathieu is someone I love to watch. He's not in my triumvirate, but he's pretty damn close. I mean, maybe it should be a club of four, a gang of four, not one of the big three.

Now, like all the rest, before I tell you why I love watching Mathieu, let me give a little historical context. I think the first film I saw him in was André Téchiné's Alice et Martin (1998). He played Benjamin, the gay actor roommate to Juliette Binoche's musician Alice. He's also the half-brother to Martin, the emotionally unstable model who falls in love with Alice. This relationship is more complicated than it sounds because Benjamin is jealous of Martin's relationship with Alice. Suddenly she shares an emotional intimacy that Benjamin was previously only privy to. Beyond this, Mathieu, in his intensity and sense of humor as an actor, just steals the fuckin' show.

Now, I might have seen him in something else before Alice et Martin. Though I doubt it. Mathieu has such a presence that Alice et Martin, which I came upon by accident YEARS ago on Cinemax in the wee hours of the morning, is so ingrained in my memory. It's damn near impossible to get a hold of a copy, and I want to see it again really badly. (Can you say desperate?)

That's just it: Mathieu's intensity and sense of humor. That's what makes him extremely watchable. When I say "intensity," I don't mean it in a De Niro or Day-Lewis sort of way. What I mean is that Mathieu is very expressive in terms of gestures. He's often playing a neurotic, too. I identify with this. I once thought that if Woody Allen did a movie in France with French actors (possibly in French?), Allen should cast Mathieu as his surrogate in much the same way Kenneth Branagh and Will Ferrell have played convincing Woody Allens.

The thing is, in most of his performances, you can't easily separate his intense expressiveness and sense of humor, which is sarcastic and sometimes ironic. I know what you're thinking: it's the writing. Hell, it could even be the direction, but to say this would completely elide the significance of the performance, of the performer. Sorry, but what is written on the page--whether it's the directions for expressiveness or the sarcastic tone--are nothing without the actor as the transmitter of these ideas. In other words, Mathieu personifies a wide variety of characteristics in a way that is singularly his. It's hard to describe, but you know what to expect when you pop in a film of his, and then he still manages to surprise you because of his versatility and obvious intelligence. Nothing is easy or simple if Mathieu is playing in the film. I really mean that.

Recommended viewing: Kings and Queen (2004). A tour-de-force. He makes this otherwise overly melodramatic and somewhat boring film fascinating. Because you can't look away when he is on-screen. He also might be the best thing about Munich (2005) other than bad actor Eric Bana's sexiness. The ambiguity of his supporting character is so textured that Louis could have a film all to himself. Also, the single best exchange (perhaps scene) in Marie Antoinette (2006) involves Mathieu. He scares King Louis XVI, saying he'd love to pop Marie's cherry since the king ain't doing it... It's a funny scene, but I find it especially funny because it's Mathieu.

Upcoming obligatory viewing: The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (2007). He plays the late editor of French Elle, Jean-Dominique Bauby, in Julian Schnabel's new (semi-unconventional) biopic. Bauby suffered a stroke at the age of 43 and it rendered him completely paralyzed, save for one of his eyes. He went on to blink--that's right, blink--his memoir, which was published either a few days before he died or a few days after he died. Need to see this because I'm sure that Mathieu's qualities as an actor that I've just described are there despite Bauby's paralysis.

On a slightly different note, my father just popped in to say goodnight. He asked what I am blogging about. When I told him, he said, "Geez, you write about these people and they don't even know you exist!" Is that the point? I defended my act by saying that once "these people" have made something and put it out there for consumption, it doesn't matter that they don't who every consumer is. This really is just my way of expressing gratitude. I'm thanking people whose work I appreciate. It's the polite thing to do, innit?

happy birthday danny boyle

The Master of Image & Sound. One of my favorite directors. You deserve a long post about what your work means to me, but I haven't the time right now. I am going to a radical bookfair in Baltimore today. I haven't been to B-more in years.

up-to-date randomity

1.) Anyone else think The Primitives "Crash" should have played throughout the end credits of Crash (2004)? It'd have been funny, and perhaps we'd like something about the movie then.

2.) I just recognized there aren't many words with three Us in them. Isn't that unusual?

3.) Anyone else underwhelmed by the films currently out? Will the movie season get any better? Eh. I'm eagerly anticipating I'm Not There (2007) because you know how I hate the conventional biopic; Control (2007) because it's about Joy Division and I want to see how it compares to 24 Hour Party People (2002); and Atonement (2007) because... well, for obvious reasons.

4.) I came out as queer to a class I was teaching, about the diversity of LGBT people, cultures, and issues. My fellow Q&A panelists weren't expecting it, but I don't think they were shocked.

5.) I don't want to wait till next fuckin' summer for the second season of "Mad Men" (2007-present). Tuesday means the season finale of the other show I have been committed to watching since its premiere: "Damages" (2007-present). 'Bout time. It's a bit too drawn out. But I like it.

6.) "Pushing Daisies" (2007-present) is too cute for words. I want the complete series of "Wonderfalls" (2004) on DVD. Right now.

happy birthday steve coogan

If you remember, Steve Coogan is in the triumvirate of people who I really like to watch. That makes me sound like a big fat voyeur, like a perv, but film is voyeuristic. I don't need to get into any psychoanalytical theories of cinema. It's neither here nor there.

Anyway, Steve Coogan is fun to watch because he's funny. This is probably one of the most obvious things someone can say about him. That is, if they even like him and/or what he puts out into the world. However, it's a bit more difficult for me to articulate why I think he is so funny. It just seems to me that his sense of humor is much more layered, textured, than we are accustomed to.

If we look at his most famous creation, Alan Partridge (who, it should be noted, may be the result of a collaboration among Coogan, Peter Baynham, and Armando Iannucci), we see a middleaged radio disc jockey who used to be famous and who still thinks he is famous. At least he wants more than what he's got following the cancellation of his talk show. We might see that he's an idiot, a fool, a bit of a social retard, a racist, a sexist. I understand he is hard to watch for some people because he is so inappropriate, offensive, and stupid. In fact, it is his ignorance that is most offensive.

More than this though, there is something else going on with Alan. He's middleaged. Divorced. His wife is sleeping with a new, young lover. He has a son called Fernando (big ABBA fan) that doesn't like him. He lives in a hotel off the motorway for fuck's sake. His personal assistant is his only real friend and it's never certain that she even likes him. She can't possibly like working for him. He doesn't need a personal assistant, really. She's filling another void for him. The staff of the hotel enjoy ridiculing him behind his back while just barely tolerating him when they're face-to-face. I am not suggesting that the staff is morally reprehensible for being so two-faced, so disingenuous. He probably deserves it. But on top of all of this, he wants more than to be a radio personality In Norwich. He's not really fit for that sort of work anyway; his taste in music is questionable. Elitists wouldn't approve of his easy-listening playlists. But Alan's not fit for TV, either. But he doesn't get it.

And then there is this show we're watching, what someone might call a sitcom, though I would disagree with that label. Yes, there may be a laugh track and perhaps the subplot in the grand scheme of Alan's narrative arc resolves itself in 22 minutes, but it's just that: his narrative arc which I briefly described in the previous paragraph already gives Alan more texture than most sitcoms, which are loosely tied together episodes in the characters' lives. "I'm Alan Partridge" (1997, 2002) is more like a mini-series in that way. Plus Alan isn't confined to a set.

In any case, I've described a character that doesn't sound like he belongs in a comedy. But he is. And there's something to be said for painting such a depressing portrait of a man and ridiculing him. It's easiest to laugh at his stupidity, but really you just pity him. Brilliant. Which other character on TV is so simple-minded given his dark, complex circumstances?

So obviously, when I watch that particular show or anything else that Steve has done, I see Alan. Perhaps what is so interesting about Steve is how his gift for impersonations and character development sort of serves as an impediment to understanding "the real Steve Coogan." What I mean is that we so often mistake his characters for the actor, the performer, himself. For instance, there have been some who believe his brilliant turn in 24 Hour Party People (2002) as the late TV personality/journalist Tony Wilson was just him playing Alan again. I'm not going to get into the reasons why this is not true (I don't want to write a comparative study of "Alan" and "Tony"). Of course there is the possibility of seeing Alan in Tony. They're both played by Steve. His physical appearance, despite the assistance of some makeup and wigs, doesn't change all that much. Some mannerisms might be the same because, again, it's Steve. Both men are usually misunderstood, too into their own heads (and egos).

I appreciate Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story (2005) mostly for its being a rumination on celebrity, performance, and authenticity. Steve, of course, is not the only actor playing "himself" here. Rob Brydon matches him, but I'm not sure Rob has a history of celebrity quite like Steve's, so Rob playing himself doesn't come off the same way. And why should it? They're two different people. And even if their on-screen personas in this film are nothing like who they really are, it doesn't really matter. Their on-screen dynamic works. (Of course I should admit that when I watch Tristram Shandy, I see the rivalry between Steve's Tony Wilson and Rob's Ryan Letts from Party People play out, as a sort of background to their performances as rivals.)

Tristam Shandy may be about a film crew trying to adapt Laurence Sterne's unfilmmable though highly cinematic novel into a film. But there is more to it because it's about "the actor Steve Coogan." It glimpses him through various lenses: Steve as the gossip rag fodder, the actor known for his previous performances, the aspiring family man, the comedic rival, the artist philosopher, the man approaching middle age who has body issues and sexually frustrating encounters. Of course not everything here is true. It's the engagement of these themes from Steve Coogan's life that makes the film so interesting. Listening to the audio commentary by Steve and Rob on the DVD only adds more layers.

This is why Steve is fun to watch. As a chameleon who never quite sheds his skin completely with each new role, he defies being pigeonholed. He constantly tries new things (see Happy Endings [2005] and Around the World in 80 Days [2004] for more information). He constantly pokes fun at himself (in addition to Tristram, there is Coffee and Cigarettes [2003], and his conversation with Alfred Molina is the best of the little vignettes). While engaging with the constant construction of his persona, he seems candid, but he also keeps you as the viewer at a distance.

As an enigma, he's fun to watch. So happy birthday to him.

he's got a lust for life

Last week it was Hitchcock. Tonight it was Trainspotting (1996). Anyone else notice the very blatant references to that oh-so-favorite film of mine in the new, second episode of the very ridiculous "Chuck" (2007-present)? As if "Lust for Life" and running/chasing after someone (yeah, in the parking lot) weren't enough, they had to go and let Chuck fall back like Renton does in the very beginning. Only for Chuck it ain't heroin; it's the U.S. government's "secrets" that makes him fall back, straight down on his heels.

it ain't no chick flick

I understand it's been about four months since it hit theatres, but I finally saw Knocked Up (2007). In general, I liked it. It was very funny and made me feel warm and fuzzy. I do not think it is as hilarious as everyone (read: Stephanie) has told me. I really didn't like Judd Apatow's most recent effort as writer-director: The 40-Year-Old Virgin. But Knocked Up, I agree, is a whole lot better. It's believable, where Steve Carell as a virgin is not. But that is neither here nor there.

I wanted to post about Knocked Up because I appreciated its attempts to reinvent the romantic comedy genre. While I find it very successful in the ways which I will soon point out below, I still must refer to them as "attempts" because the film did not work to completely overhaul the genre. Not since Shakespeare in Love (1998) has there been a clever reworking of the romantic comedy.

These are what I picked out as nice little spices to the formula:

1.) The PREMISE itself. There have been some movies about one-night stands. Better Than Sex (2000) comes to mind. But I mean even more generally there is a very important plot point in films where a one-night stand figures prominently, as in: the guy finds out he's a dad sometime during the film. Such as Big Daddy (1999).

Anyway, this film starts with a drunken night of sex, an awkward morning-after, and then the decision to raise a kid together. After they've ruled out abortion, they go one step further in their plans: they figure they've seven months (at that point) to get to know each other. So that neither is raising the baby with a complete stranger. And they unexpectedly fall in love. I understand this "they unexpectedly fall in love" makes it sound like Pride & Prejudice (see any version), but I think using that wonderful convention and twisting it a bit because of the premise (an unwanted pregnancy) is very clever.

2.) There's NO CHASE. You know how much I hate those damn things. With less than five minutes left of the screentime, the guy or girl realizes he or she wants to be with the other so much they literally race against the clock--whether it's through traffic in downtown Manhattan or London or on the highway on a bridge--to get to his or her beloved. It's unrealistic, especially the ones where weddings are crashed. I especially hate the ones where they have to race to the airport before the lover boards a plane, usually out of the country! But I digress.

Knocked Up conforms to the formula in that they have a fight in the middle of their relationship. Seth Rogen as slacker-stoner Ben Stone doesn't chase after Katherine Heigl's TV-reporter Alison Scott. He just waits for them both to cool off a bit and then goes to her niece's birthday party with the hope of explaining himself to Alison. She rejects him again, but eventually they get together, when their baby comes.

3.) There's NO REAL LADYFRIEND SIDEKICK. At first I found it really strange and interesting that Alison, a successful young woman with her head on her shoulders, wasn't spending most of her on-screen time away from Ben with a group of girlfriends a la "Sex and the City" (1998-2004). You know, getting advice and talking about vibrators. Whatever. The usually multiracial circle of ladyfriends is really tired, and it is such an old convention that the ladyfriends really feel like a waste of time and energy, like they're always just standing in the background. None--aside from the show previously mentioned--are as well developed as the leading lady.

I know what you're thinking: what about Debbie (Leslie Mann), Alison's sister? Well, yes, she is Alison's friend and source of guidance, but she's got her own storyline, which is sometimes humorous and sometimes a bit heartbreaking. What is not advertised for the film is the meaty subplot revolving around Debbie's marriage to Pete (sexy Paul Rudd; wait till you see him in a suit!). Alison (and sometimes Ben) are often Debbie's sidekicks when she deals with her problems. There are reciprocities in their relationships that you don't often see between the leads and the supporting characters in romantic comedies. For that, Knocked Up gets some brownie points, especially since it made me like Leslie Mann (for more info, see: Big Daddy [1999] and The Cable Guy [1996]).

I'm sure there are other things, but I can't think of any others right now. I'm opening it up and asking for your observations: how does Knocked Up try to reinvent the romantic comedy?

But here are some of the bits I didn't like:

1.) Ben's slackerdom and slacker friends. I didn't find his roommates very funny. Crude humor isn't my thing, really, so I found other bits much more entertaining. Ben's being a pothead didn't endear me to him either. I sort of wish he hadn't been a stoner-slacker. Perhaps it would have been funnier if he actually had a job (not white collar) and fewer roommates who try to steal the attention with their crude jokes.

2.) It's really dated. There are so many references to very current pop culture (such as Spider-Man 3 [2007]) that Knocked Up will forever be placed in that 2007 time capsule of pop culture, in the context of the rise of the Apatow comedy entourage. However, I should say I LOVED the Back to the Future (1985) reference, especially since Alison didn't get it at the time.

3.) Its length. Is it really necessary to have a semi-gross out comedy that runs over two hours? Then again, perhaps this subverts the (romantic) comedy genre, too. I should note that Apatow is not the first to do this. The Brothers Farrelly did it first.

life as prosthetic memory

I think I have mentioned before that I am behind in my reading for some of my classes. I've caught up for my "Race and Nation in Twentieth Century US Cinema" class, which is very good news. On the other hand, I have yet to receive from the on-campus bookstore my textbooks for my "Sexuality in the Cinema" class. But that is neither here nor there.

Today I started reading Alison Landsberg's Prosthetic Memory: The Transformation of American Remembrance in the Age of Mass Culture for the US Cinema course. Very interesting. Landsberg defines "prosthetic memory"--and I'm paraphrasing here--as the site where an individual comes face-to-face with an historical narrative that the individual did not directly experience or live through. These historical narratives can be from another time or even ones that mainly just affected people of another race, class, gender, nationality, etc. Anyway, at this moment of confrontation, the person does not just understand the moment's significance, she also absorbs it as a sort of past experience that occupies for her as equal a space in her memory as any event in her archive of actual personal experiences. This sort of memory is important not just because it allows for the historical narrative or event to shape the individual's outlook and "subjectivity," it also allows for empathy.

Landsberg argues that films and experiential museums are the sites where such memory-making moments occur. This is why we're reading it for the class; to see how films can physically and emotionally move audiences to believe they are experiencing an historical moment that they themselves never actually experienced. OK. An example: the Holocaust. There are numerous films about this important event in history, and certainly not all the people who saw Schindler's List (1993) or Life is Beautiful (1997) were Jewish. If these films are filed in a viewer's memory regardless of her race, ethnicity, religion, age, gender, and so on then she may later recall the events depicted in these films, for instance, and confuse them as real events she lived through or experienced. The realism of the cinematic medium can blur the line between what is real and what is imagined, what is "authentic" and what is "inauthentic." Of course, I don't mean that Landsberg actually thinks someone can feel themselves a Holocaust victim or survivor based on seeing one film; what I mean to say is that as viewers we may imagine a past historical event as how we remember seeing it enacted in a film. And because of this, we are more likely to empathize with those who actually experienced it. Not to mention, we're also likely to identify with people who had a similar experience watching the film; we recognize we're similar because we have new "prosthetic memories."

The book is fascinating, and it got me thinking a lot since Landsberg started to deconstruct what she meant by "prosthetic memories" through using modern sci-fi epics Blade Runner (1982) and Total Recall (1990). To start there simply because sci-fi as a genre allows for an imagined future where anything is possible and where memory plays a different role in forming people's identities--as is the case in these two films--wasn't enough of a sell for me. I tried to think of other genres and films where "prosthetic memories" play a central role. And I've thought of three.

The most obvious one being Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004). Without going into too much detail about the film because I assume you've seen it, recall how Jim Carrey is racing against the clock to salvage memories before they are taken away from him. To hold onto Kate Winslet, the crazy girlfriend he would rather not forget after all, he decides to take her to memories where she did not appear. In this way, she experiences his boyhood memories of being picked on, watching from under the table an attractive friend of his mother's, and bathing in the kitchen sink. Not only can this change his memory of these past events in his life (now boyhood isn't so lonely), she has also taken on memories of times when she didn't know him and these memories of his have become hers too, informing her perspective on him, her life, and love.

The next example I thought of was Before Sunset (2004). The one-time lovers Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy reflect during this chance meeting in Paris on their affair through Vienna nine years before, as chronicled in Before Sunrise (1995). They also explicitly discuss how this chance meeting can change their memory of the past. For instance, as Delpy's Celine points out, he can no longer go on thinking his return to Vienna was an awful experience. After all, it was fodder for his first bestselling novel. Let's face it: if they had met, perhaps his book would have a different ending. His not knowing what kept her led him to leave the book open-ended because he didn't even want to imagine what an ending to their romance would be like.

But, knowing her reason for not turning up to their planned reunion changes his memory of the event. For it's now likely that he will forever connect her not showing up in Vienna to their chance meeting in Paris where they were able to discuss all sorts of things.

More to the point, the realism and the unique narrative structure (just fly-on-the-wall views of a long, intimate conversation between two strangers-turned-lovers in Sunrise and one between two past lovers in Sunset) allow the viewer to develop a "prosthetic memory" of their rendezvous. More specifically, Before Sunset invites the audience to remember the prequel through splicing scenes from Sunrise into the moments where Hawke's Jesse recognizes Celine. Their conversation that stretches out along the winding backstreets of Paris and along the Seine returns again and again to the topic of their meeting and falling in love. I think that through their words it is possible to follow their love story even if the viewer has never seen Before Sunrise. Since I saw Sunrise before Sunset, every time I watch Sunset, as they talk about the night in Vienna, I am reminded of the actual events that took place in Sunrise. The acting and writing are so superb in each that the film can and does lead one to believe they are real people. This is an effect of "prosthetic memory," I think; Jesse and Celine are real lovers. I remember them meeting in Vienna and later in Paris.

My last example is Zelig (1983). I just saw it last night for the first time. I thought it was absolutely brilliant. It satirizes society through examining in the best mockumentary fashion a human chameleon (Woody Allen as Leonard Zelig). Not only is he present for many historical moments in the 1920s and 30s, hobnobbing with the rich and famous and the regular Joes, he also takes on their physical and emotional characteristics while he is with them. He is able to fool people into thinking he is Native American, for example, because he looks and he acts like he is. Talk about "authenticity"! Talk about extreme empathy! (It's not exactly sympathy because none of his identities is permanent and thus his identities can be thought of as transient, always changing. He has no permanent self from which he can be sympathetic to one group or another all the time as the groups he assumes may be in conflict with each other.)

Then a love interest enters the story in the form of psychiatrist Eudora Fletcher (Mia Farrow). She attempts to cure him of this psychological disorder, concerned he is being taken advantage of by the media. She also wants him to develop a personality of his own.

In any case, a fascination with this period of American history had to have been one of the contributing factors for Allen's making this film. Casting himself in the role of Zelig allows him to play around with history, to imagine how his infamously neurotic self would interact with the times. Of course the story is completely fictional; it is not as if he has transferred any real story or real experience of his to this time. But, fundamentally, the film shows what it is like to insert yourself into all the historical events you wished you saw, strung together by a seemingly ridiculous but ultimately insightful narrative. In other words, the film represents a reclamation of collective history and memory and illuminates how the collective memory of history is subjective and "prosthetic."

which african tribe are you?

I just wrote an email to a family friend and mentioned that I needed to watch The Birth of a Nation (1915) for a class this week. Flanking my message in Gmail were adverts for online counseling to help you trace your genealogy back to African tribes such as the Zulu, Hutu, and Berber.

happy birthday kevin mckidd

This is possibly the strangest celebrity birthday, as it falls two days before my own. Not only does Kevin share this day with a truckload of other famous people--from Whitney Houston to Eric Bana--he also shares it with my grandmother. She'd be 85 today if she were still alive. Please don't get me wrong: I've thought a lot about her today. I just don't have any vivid enough memories of her to recount here because she died when I was five. Kevin, on the other hand, I have plenty of memories of, and I don't even know him. Is that not the magic of the movies? People sweep into your life when you see them once or twice and then you follow their career. And you may not even follow them consciously.

Like many other people, I first saw Kevin in Trainspotting (1996), his first or second film role. And as you know, I have a very special and ineffable relationship with this film. I was ten when I first saw this picture about heroin junkies in Edinburgh. All the bad words (if you could understand them). All the sex. All the drugs. All the Iggy Pop.

I suppose the easiest way to define what I mean by "relationship" with this film is that it is the first that really made an impression on me. It was the strangest thing: I got the humor. I understood the accents. I understood what I thought to be the film's message. As I grew older and my appreciation grew and grew, I started to appreciate it for its cinematic qualities. And for that I tip my hat to Danny Boyle, to this day one of my favorite directors. I call him the Master of Image and Sound because of his poetic-like ability to couple the two so well.

OK, getting back to Kevin: Tommy was always my favorite character. People may prefer Renton because he is the one who is most sympathetic, the one whose eyes you see this universe through. Or Sick Boy because he's so charismatic. Or Spud because he's a bit aloof. Or Begbie because he's unpredictable, and even though an asshole: he's funny.

Me? I have always loved Tommy because he's so unlike them. He's a good guy. A nice, honest, and decent fellow. One of the mysteries of life is: "Why the fuck is Thomas McKenzie friends with the rest? Especially Begbie, who just scares the shit out of him." How can you not feel bad and embarrassed when he loses his girlfriend over Renton's invasion of privacy? And then it starts his downward spiral, starting from obsessive love, to drug addiction, to an AIDS diagnosis, and finally ending at death. Every time I cry because Tommy is the one whose loss is felt the most, the hardest.

Kevin, I recognize, has made plenty more films, and I have seen most of them. While I may be suggesting that his association with the character of Tommy is why I still pay attention to his career (that doesn't say much because I care about everyone's career, even the ones of people I don't like to watch), I pay attention to him because I like him. He's in that category of people I find fun to watch. He keeps such company as Steve Coogan, Bill Nighy, Mathieu Amalric, Mads Mikkelsen, Romain Duris, Rhys Ifans, Kelly Macdonald, Shirley Henderson, Michael Sheen, Alan Cumming, Marton Csokas, Tom Hollander, and Paul Rudd among others. These are people so fascinating with (almost) every character they play that I have to see everything they do. It's as simple as this: I will never turn down an opportunity to see any of these guys. Kevin is in this group, and he's at the top of the list.

There have been so many movies I have seen just because he is in them. Particularly Dog Soldiers (2002). As you know, I don't care for horror films, but because he was in it, I thought he could elevate it. He did. I mean, I enjoyed it enough. I don't particularly care for Douglas McGrath's adaptation of Nicholas Nickleby (2002), mainly because of the casting decision to give Charlie Hunnam the lead. But for those few moments Kevin (and Alan Cumming) are on screen, my face lights up.

But Kevin, I'm sorry to say, has made a few duds. I absolutely hated De-Lovely (2004), but this was not his fault. I mainly blame the writer, director, and star Kevin Kline. Thankfully, there have been more times that Kevin makes me smile (or smirk, as with "Rome" [2005-2007]) than there have been times where I want to turn the TV off.

When I watch him now, sometimes I am reminded of his Tommy performance. Or, rather, I am reminded of how my watching him started around then. But in general, I don't really think about Trainspotting too much. Which is hard to do, considering he has undergone a transformation a la Christian Bale. He once was a thin and lanky guy, now he's so buff he'll probably be cast as a superhero in whatever comic they're adapting for the screen next.

Which brings me to my next point. Kevin has been cast as the lead in an American TV series, "Journeyman" (2007-present). If you ask me, it looks a lot like "Quantum Leap" (1989-1993). But that is neither here nor there. I'll watch it. You know I will. Because I care.

Now, today, I was a bit surprised that the IMDb listed him on the front page as having a birthday today. Granted, he was the last in the list. But I wasn't too surprised because "Rome" was a sort of a hit for HBO and a lot of people bemoaned its demise. Looking at his filmography, I was then surprised by the message boards proclaiming so many fans. All of them seemed to have "fallen in love" with him because of the series. None really mentioned being introduced to him via Trainspotting so many years ago. Of course this made me feel good, as if I made the discovery earlier. But who cares, right?

I feel the need to respond indirectly to the comments on the message boards. Yes, I find him attractive, but it is strange because he is not traditionally my type. For starters, he is blond. And well, now he's huge and "fit as fuck," as one poster said. He's got beautiful blue eyes (who could resist those?). But for me, the most attractive quality is, well, I think he has the sexiest Scottish accent I've ever heard. I understand most find the Scottish brogue sexy, but his is unlike any other Scottish actor they all go goo-goo-ga-ga over. (I say this because these message board loiterers describe his being Scottish sexy in itself. These people probably think they all wear kilts everyday, too.) Plus, I know a shitload about Scotland. It's an obsession I have Trainspotting to thank for. More than this, it's his voice.

Yeah, so, I think my triumvirate of people I love to watch goes as follows: Steve Coogan, Bill Nighy, and Kevin McKidd. And you can put them in any order you like.

love means having to say you're sorry

I fear my greatest passion is in jeopardy. As if it's slowly becoming extinct. It's still in full force in my life, but I just know that it's going to gradually slip away soon. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I need to start someplace else.

My greatest passion, as you know, of course, is film. Just look to the right. There are 63 posts about film in my archives.

Now, now, when I write that film is in jeopardy, I do not mean the industry is in jeopardy. (Some might disagree with me there.) What I mean is that I'm not so sure it's going to be a daily fixture in my life for much longer. And here's why:

I've already resolved to move my TV out of my room as soon as school starts. I want to take this measure so that I can concentrate on my schoolwork. This includes my regular assignments for my classes and all the reading, thinking, and writing I must do for my thesis. I figure getting rid of the TV means I won't be so distracted. Because, as you know, it's very easy for me to put in a DVD and sit back and relax. Or is it?

It's not that easy after all, I think. For me, anyway. I keep a film journal, where I write about my experience and interpretation of every film I see for the first time (or the first time in a long time). I have OCD. I must write about the movie. I know that the world will not end if I don't, but I can't not document something that important to me.

Usually, I give myself a day to write about it, but I haven't written about the last eleven movies I've seen, starting with Manhattan (1979) which I saw on July 22nd. I've penned in the films' names (in their original language), year of release, and director on the pages I hope to fill, but I have yet to write about them. And it's driving me crazy. So crazy that I want to slow down watching movies so that I don't end up with twenty movies to write about. Yes, that's right. I said, "I want to slow down watching movies."

But why am I going at such a speed, you ask? Well, I've been renting five to six movies a week from the library. I request online some of the most obscure shit in the catalogue so I hardly have to wait to pick them up at my local library. To make a long story short, before yesterday, I had fourteen movies waiting for me. I have to strategically rent them. This means I end up watching some movies first before I rent the ones I really want to see because they came in later and thus will be on hold for me longer.

In any case, with all the work going on at the house, I can barely get through all five or six movies a week. And the recent upsurge of movies available for my viewing pleasure has really annoyed not only my father but myself. He has requested that I "take it easy with the movies." I agreed that I won't request more for a long time. So this means that gradually the screening of new movies (to me) will die out.

This is perfect. It goes along with what I have planned about getting the TV out of my room. I just don't know which will happen first: the removal of the TV or the dearth of library movies available for me to rent.

I'm sorry.